


Draco Malfoy and the Order of Nothing

by LoekVanStelling



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AU, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Smut, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Inner Struggle, M/M, Melancholy, Non-Linear Narrative, POV Alternating, Past Child Abuse, Political Alliances, Psychological Drama, Slow Build, Slow Burn, deep character portraits, no happy ending, seriously lots of retrospection, will add more tags as i keep writing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-27
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-13 15:08:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29030673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoekVanStelling/pseuds/LoekVanStelling
Summary: This is a slash involving Draco Malfoy; in the beginning, it looks like drarry but don't cling to that, there might or might not be a twist later on. It starts during GoF and unfolds predominantly during OotP and HBP. The main focus is on character development and relathionships forming over time; I was trying to recreate the teenage way of thinking as means of evoking strong emotions. I am not really into the whole adventure thing so if you don't like painfully slow plot - or lack of any plot whatsoever - this fic may just not be your cup of tea. Fans of deep philosophical stuff and stram of consciousness narrative - welcome!***CURRENTLY IN NEED OF A BETA***I am not a native speaker and I try my best but I could use some help in forming collocations - otherwise, my word choices may sound confusing/poetic. Just the fact that I was able to write the first chapter in a foreign language and get the hang of tags is a huge achievement for me.Later chapters will be added slowly (I do have a muggle life that needs my attention) but I basically already have the whole story in my mind (and some loose pieces of later chapters written down) and I will have this fic finished.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 2
Kudos: 1





	1. Let's just start to sink in

**Author's Note:**

> After reading all those countless good fanfics, I have finally decided to post my first fanfiction ever. I don't have much experience in writing other than student papers and diaries. My dream is to create a kind of story that interacts with the reader; a story that is elastic, disobeys set norms in writing and incorporates alternative points of views and various types of narration to make the reader feel as if they were taken for a ride. I am more determined to accomplish that than to invent some decent events, dialogues and adventures. One can't have everything, eh?
> 
> I almost forgot - all the characters belong to Rowling, I do quote some sentences from the books here and there, copyrights not mine, blah blah blah.

Our story begins during the 4th canonical book, soon after Harry discovers that the Goblet has “chosen” him as the fourth contestant; the Golden Boy, however, doesn’t want to take part in the Tournament. He is forced to do so because the Goblet, being an inanimate dish, obviously knows what’s best, fair and most righteous for people. Naturally, the people cheerfully follow the fate chosen for them by the Goblet because human species has never been particularly intelligent. After all, it is the “binding magical contract” that must be respected as the superior arbiter.

Potter, being a stubborn teenage Griffindor, is torn between rebelling against the Goblet and bravely meeting the expectations of the teaching staff. In the end, it is Dumbledore’s previous long-lasting training him to focus on Voldemort that makes Harry consider the Tournament an unnecessary distraction. Had he any choice, he wouldn’t have taken part in the farce. For whatever reason, Dumbledore clearly expects him to play by the Goblet’s rules and Harry obliges, though reluctantly.

This moment of typically Potterish resistance is precisely the detail which allows an alternate story to unfold. Until this point, the characters retained their personalities and opinions in accordance to the canon; Harry’s desperate need of fair play combines with his bold, Gryffindorish nature, and then those forces merge with the boy’s blind trust in Dumbledore and curiosity that runs in Potter’s veins. But the tiny moment of inner struggle and doubt makes it possible for Harry to begin withdrawing from the glory of participation in the Tournament. He will take part in the tasks with sufficient effort to satisfy the law requirements, yet he will attempt to avoid the elements of fame, splendor and goal orientation.

While Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff students will look down on Harry because he appears to have cheated to enter the Tournament, it would have been hypocritical of Slytherins to think likewise. The majority of Snakes will bully Harry because of his irritating arrogance, his being in the centre of attention or simply because they have always hated him and the whole Gryffindor; some Snakes, however, will have difficulties ignoring the fact that Potter is starting to think independently and showing a surprising variety of Slytherin traits such as mistrust towards the system or using that sneaky strategy in the dragon task.

It doesn’t change the fact that Potter had made his choices on the first day of their first year at Hogwarts. He rejected the hand offered to him just because some snowflake redhead Dumbledore supporter felt insulted. He stated his allegiance for years to come. They say that the Sorting Hat had wanted to place Potter in a different house but the boy stubbornly whispered to it that he doesn’t want to be put there, having spent all his life in a muggle environment and getting to know the wrong kind of people in the beginning. Draco is not going to give Potter any second chance after all that has happened just because The Golden Boy seems to begin to use his brains for a change.

What for would he do that, anyway? It’s not like Potter needs new friends, albeit Draco suspected it was not the ginger one that turned away from him, thinking that Potter had lied to him about the Goblet incident. To Malfoy’s mind, Potter was the active participant of his and Weasley's drifting apart, as if he kind of wished to spend some time without the influence of the ginger.

When the ‘Potter stinks’ badges became a thing, Malfoy was glad to have one not only because it strengthened his bond with other Slytherins. The badge was at the same time a reminder that Potter would never ever stop being Dumbledore’s slave, no doubt. _"Like them, Potter? And this isn't all they do - look!"_ He remembers Weasel standing there passively, not laughing, but not intending to defend Potter either. He remembers the moment he was making up his mind to eventually say quietly _"go on then, Potter; Moody's not here to look after you now - do it, if you've got the guts"_ and the split second when they looked into each other eyes before they cast the spells. When he confronted The Savior and his companions, deep down Draco aimed at Weasley in a subconscious intent to keep Potter out of the things he knows nothing about. He hit Granger with his spell instead; good enough, maybe even better.

The Golden Boy became the newspapers’ favorite pet – all the things they wrote about him, the wistful, heart-melting stories about his traumatized mind were very successful in inspiring Hogwarts gossips. The intimate details of Potter’s childhood, as well as an even larger amount of absurd rumors, became widespread within the school walls. The common denominator of the gossips involved child abuse, identity crisis and suppressed anger issues.

A part of Malfoy pitied Potter because he knew with such kind of “parental figures” as the Dursleys, The Boy Who Lived had no chance to tell apart the truth from a lie. No wonder he believed that Weasley and Granger kept him company just because they liked him. The poor orphan was so desperate for family that he clung to any relationship remotely similar to friendship. Being trapped in a web of political, diplomatic and interdependent relations himself, Malfoy easily noticed signs of a similar pattern in the Gryffindor clan. It wasn’t even about the houses; it was all about Dumbledore’s part of the chessboard.

On the final day of Triwizard Tournament, when wounded Potter appeared outside of the labyrinth, holding Diggory’s lifeless body, Malfoy considered the whole situation sickening. There he was, standing in front of the maze in glory, The Savior that just wasn’t powerful enough to keep another student alive, bruised and bleeding, just because the headmaster together with his funny ministry had arranged this entertainment with the purpose of… what exactly? Is that what he was calling education? Or was that just some kind of a stupid joke? One Hufflepuff down; it’s not like they hadn’t warned the Tournament would be dangerous so that won’t be a legal issue.

And then there was Potter, with his Gryffindor attitude of doing before thinking and such hard task-oriented approach that he didn’t take his time to stop and reconsider who had arranged the event in the first place. Glamorously trapped in the battle between the good and the bad, bravely pursuing the dream of a better world, continually being set back by suffering after each mess he got himself into. Right now he is probably more focused on the whole Dark Lord against Dumbledore battle than on the fact that another student died precisely because of it.

Wasn’t that just convenient? Wouldn’t that seem like a perfect plan for Dumbledore, to let Dark Lord return in the right moment, after years of building his own reputation and breeding Potter to be able to face Dark Lord eventually, not trying to prevent the latter from returning and remaining oblivious to the fact that there were several issues including something wrong with the back of one teacher’s head?

No, actually, it was not so simple. While Dumbledore made hell of a good move with the Philosopher’s Stone and the Chamber of Secrets, he probably hadn’t foreseen the Triwizard Tournament being an opportunity for Dark Lord to return. It was more likely that the headmaster simply wanted to make Potter convinced that he is actually not that powerful, should he ever grow too self-confident. Potter was not meant to win the Tournament; he was meant to keep thinking that his former victories over Dark Lord happened because he was lucky. This is why Dumbledore had this strange surprised look in his eyes when he saw The Golden Boy appear back; it was not really the death of Diggory or the return of Dark Lord itself, but the fact that Potter survived the confrontation with him yet again.

With the start of the fifth year Draco’s theory gained new evidence. The headmaster was clearly avoiding Potter and it was Weasel who became the prefect. Cracks appeared on the bond between Dumbledore and The Savior. If Potter’s frustration could be transferred into light, it could easily outshine the Sun. Honestly; it looked like after the summer, Potter gained himself a new nickname: The Boy Who Is Triggered By Whatever You Tell Him. Like that one time Umbridge initiated some coursebook education and it was enough of a reason for Potter to start yelling about Dark Lord’s return…

Get it together; control yourself for fuck sake.

Draco was not sure whether he directed the thought at Harry or himself. He rolled his eyes and started reading page fourteen, determined to focus on anything but Potter’s overreaction. Nobody knew what Draco had been doing over the last months, even his closest… Well, he could not call them friends, that’s for sure. Anyway, Crabbe, Goyle, Parkinson and Zabini were close but not close enough. In this delicate game they call life you need to weigh every step carefully and in advance. Being tangled up in his family’s position in the inner circle, Draco did not develop a thing called trust; he did develop, however, a few coping mechanisms, good observation skills and a poker face that he learnt from watching Snape’s behavior in both environments – as a professor and as a Death Eater.

Yes, the face Snape was able to maintain was very impressive and even Malfoy had no idea what his father’s friend was thinking. Nobody knew. Draco had the same goal in mind, to be able to hide everything so well that none of his secrets would ever be revealed.

Part of that was keeping “his closest ones" at bay. All the things he shared had been calculated. All the opinions others had about him he had predicted. All the questions he was asked he had planned the answer to. Each little step, each tiny detail, each word, each gesture, each…

“I am talking to you,” said Parkinson with an expectant face expression.

“Hmm,” answered Draco, focusing his gaze at Pansy.

“Well? Don’t you agree?”

“To some extent,” answered Draco calmly; Parkinson was actually a predictable person and Malfoy usually said he agreed to her remarks eighty percent of the time. There was a high probability that whatever she said this time, Draco would second her again.

The girl turned her head back to her notebook and noted down some of the words she picked up from Umbridge. Draco followed suit. In the corner of his eye he captured Potter staring at him with a blank expression and absent stare that matched his own switched off look.


	2. From one's perspective

The forest is beautiful at this time of the year. The sunrays spread out on the treetops like melted gold to slowly make the leaves adjust the color to a more tanned version. The trunks of the trees smell differently, as if preparing themselves for a state of hibernation, enveloped in the bark that, at the right time of the afternoon in sunny days, looks like honey. Pumpkins appear on the school grounds and the last flowers dry out between the blades of grass.

The ghosts seem to be more excited as the Halloween approaches. They chat about the decorations and preparations, already ignoring the first-year students they were curious about in September. The Great Hall is filled with spooky atmosphere created by the ghosts’ low voices and the growing amount of candles lingering in the air.

Draco catches himself staring into space with a cup of already cold tea in his left hand. For split of a second, he does not remember what he has just been thinking about; surely, it must have had something to do with the atmosphere that was bombarding him through all his senses.

He raises the cup in his hand and drinks the tea. It’s green, unsweetened. I mean, it would be a crime to sweeten green tea anyways, he thinks to himself. He has no idea why the idea of sugar even came to his mind. He shakes his head in confusion and stands up, deciding to go back to his dormitory.

He almost bumps into the jolly bunch of Gryffindors on the corridor: Granger, trying to get hold of a stack of books that are slipping out of her hands, Weasley talking to Potter with enthusiasm about something and the other boy rubbing against his bandaged hand.

“What happened, Potter?” he heard himself asking with a sarcastic tune of voice. “Did you hurt yourself falling from your bed because of your nightmares… again?”

Granger rolled her eyes and went past him into the Great Hall without a word.

“Not your fucking business,” barked Weasel.

“Oh, I was just being sympathetic, you know,” said Malfoy, making a face. “Wouldn’t want our precious Golden Boy to be disadvantaged during the next quidditch match, would we?”

Ron inhaled and exhaled loudly, narrowing his eyes, right hand automatically moving towards his pockets. Harry caught his friend’s elbow and shook his head. “Not worth it, Ron,” he said quietly.

“Gonna be hard to catch the snitch with that hand,” added Malfoy.

“You almost sounded as if you cared,” smirked Harry. “You can’t risk your Slytherin face with that kind of attitude.”

“My face is not your problem.”

“So is my hand,” cut Harry and entered the Great Hall together with Ron.

Indeed, he hasn’t been sleeping properly lately. After the Triwizard Tournament, the scar was acting up increasingly often. The detention with Umbridge did not improve his sleeping pattern. Perhaps quidditch was just the right thing to bring his organism back balance.

Sitting down next to Hermione, Harry realized he is actually looking forward to the match. On the left side of him, Ron was already piling up food onto his plate. He heard Lavender Brown giggle from the other side of the table and looked around his classmates – they seemed to be sitting in small groups, some chatting cheerfully, and some moaning with despair about their homework.

“So, have you told Dumbledore yet?” asked Hermione, pouring herself a glass of juice.

“I told you, I just don’t want to make a scene,” he answered.

“It’s illegal, Harry. Should the Ministry learn about that…”

“…they would have probably awarded Umbridge for determination in practicing her special discipline methods. Anyway, it’s not like Dumbledore and I are having particularly close relationship nowadays,” he added coldly.

“You know it is not true,” said Ron. “He’s always been by your side”.

Harry took a deep breathed and sighed. “I don’t know what to think anymore,” he admitted.

***

The crowd was pumped with excitement. Everyone was trying to cheer their team louder than others. The colors of the houses spilled over the quidditch stands as the Gryffindor and Slytherin players walked on the wet grass. Harry’s veins were already filled with adrenaline when he was mounting the broom. He was ready and determined to win the first match in the season and set the mood for the upcoming ones.

His mind was empty of unnecessary nonsense in the beginning of the match, as he kept uplifting team spirit after Ron passed the first goal. It was alright; it was just his first official game, nothing to worry about. The second goal that Slytherin scored was a tough one and Harry soon found himself mesmerized watching the other players pass the quaffle. It was then that the meaning of what the Slytherins in the stands were shouting got to him: “Weasley is our king.” The sarcastic song rang in his ears and got louder with the next goal that Ron didn’t manage to save. The worst part of it was that it wasn’t just about his friend’s poor skills; it was about his whole family’s reputation and perhaps even more.

Harry gritted his teeth and squeezed the broom harder. The Slytherins were implying that Ron can’t “save a thing” and it hurt because it was not far from the truth and Harry knew it very well, even though he didn’t want to admit it. His best friend’s strongest traits were his loyalty and devotion to the cause but other than that, there were his shadows. He was scared of so many things, short-sighted and naïve, and, unfortunately, hardly ever managed to do stuff right. And that seemed to be in his veins. Arthur Weasley’s position in the Ministry wasn’t particularly strong; those of Slytherins’ influential parents who worked in the Ministry as well often made fun of him.

From then on, the game was different. It got more personal, not only because of Ron, but also because of Harry’s own struggle. He was supposed to be the Savior. He was supposed to save the people he didn’t know, his friends, and Ron on top. At this moment, for just a second, Harry felt as if he had been dragging a huge weight for his whole life. And he didn’t have parents that he would be able to be ashamed of, he didn’t have a family reputation to fiercely protect. At this moment, he only had the match to save.

And so he decided he needs to catch the snitch very fast if he wants to stop Ron from completely collapsing from shame. He started frantically zooming over the stadium in search for the tiny dot of gold. He found it pretty soon and dived, immediately noticing that Malfoy followed after him. He gained more speed, his heart racing faster and faster, chasing the snitch that was just a few feet away.

They were racing neck to neck, Potter and Malfoy. Both of them felt that it was not a friendly race – they were fighting against the enemy. Malfoy tried to attack Potter with his shoulder, pushing him from the side. Potter resisted the attack, keeping his gaze fixed at the snitch. Malfoy tried again, using more force this time, sacrificing his momentum a little bit and falling behind. He watched as the Gryffindor pulled forward with his right arm stretched ahead, trying to keep up and…

…realizing that just trying to keep up is not enough – it always is a mistake, just to match others, instead of aiming at being better than them. This time, the old Slytherin saying proved true again as Draco’s trying to catch up with Potter wasn’t enough to stop the other from catching the snitch.

It was after the match ended that the bludger hit Potter unexpectedly. Draco watched Potter roll off his broom and fall to the ground; he joined the rest of players only after those few seconds of watching his nemesis fall, albeit it was merely a trivial sport accident. When he landed, the Gryffindors were yelling something about injustice and Draco sighed with irritation. Well, life is NOT fair and it’s high time those idiots learnt that. One minute you win a silly game and another something hits you in your back so hard that your brain can’t even comprehend that. What was not fair to begin with was the fact that had Potter not saved Weasley’s neck, the victory would be theirs. But Draco did not really care about justice, honestly.

Each insulting word that he said later, he meant. Those about the Weasley family and those about stupid Potter’s mother too; and the punch that he received from Potter he did fully expect. Still, he stood by what he said. Those were the facts that Potter wouldn’t notice even if they were right in front of his face. The Weasley family was as much corrupted as the Potters had been and that was precisely the reason why The Golden Boy decided to stick with them, even if that was a subconscious decision. And even if Draco was saying that aloud now in anger, he did mean it and Potter was equally oblivious to the truth in Draco’s words as he was oblivious to his own fake family’s real motives.

The look in Potter’s eyes was murderous. There was no doubt that he was able to kill Draco now at the spot with his bare hands, or at least cause him as much pain as possible, and if it wasn’t for Hooch then Potter would have had blood on his hands. See, this is what happens when you are close with the people of the wrong sort, Potter. You become blind towards your own shit.

***

A few hours later, when the emotions aroused during their confrontation had worn off, Draco left the castle and headed towards the lake, adjusting his scarf as he was stepping through the main gate. It crossed his mind that he might actually leave the castle for good if he would have to suffer the narrow-mindedness of those around him. He wholeheartedly wished that he would never again have to see the face of that Gryffindor prat. And they say that it was Slytherin that produced the most ruthless wizards! After the incident on the pitch, Draco was only more convinced that it was the so-called ‘Light’ side that served as a perfect cover for evil.

He took a deep breath of the chilly, slightly humid autumn air and let the fog that hovered above the school grounds hide him as he climbed his favorite apple tree nearby the lake. The fruits were soon to become the perfect balance of sour and sweet, but not yet; they still needed a couple of days. Nevertheless, Draco grabbed one and took a bite. He was sure that Durmstrang didn’t offer such tasty forage as Hogwarts and, frankly speaking, Draco did like to wander around and to be able, how should he put it?, to actually taste the surroundings. The wildberries, for instance, at least those that grew inside the Forbidden Forest, never disappointed his taste buds. Not that Draco would explore the depths of the forest, but the outskirts of it sufficed.

No wonder he has become increasingly interested in herbology in the past year. Draco actually pondered the possibility of studying the subject in depth in the future. Until then, he used a reasonable portion of his free time to explore and discover on his own. He kept a journal (yes! Draco Malfoy did have a sort of a diary!), in which he recorded some plants he encountered and what information he managed to gather about them. At the same time, the journal served as his personal space to note his observations unrelated to herbology. Secured under a spell combined with the password, the journal would never happen to be read by anybody other than Draco; he was simply sure that nobody ever would be able to guess the password, and breaking the spell still didn’t allow anybody to see anything else than blank pages. You can abort your hopes now – Draco is not going to reveal the content of the journal nor the password.

The taste of the apple seeds always reminded him of almonds.


End file.
